The Fields of Conspiracy
by Bob Baratheon
Summary: The first installation of a suspenseful ride through Runeterra. Conspiracies are torn apart piece by piece as they're uncovered. Relationships blossom and wither as never expected. The world is under a new shadow. Will it mean victory for one side after centuries of war? Or will it mean an unlikely alliance for preservation? Only time will tell.
1. Chapter 1 - Jarvan IV

**I. Jarvan**

The wretched sound of steel on flesh was unique, synonymous with death and dismay for anyone in earshot. Lance tore through organs and split arteries without difficulty. Blood was the only companion for the weapon as it poured out onto the ground beneath the victim. Gargling accompanied the dull thud of his body against the stonework just before the last of his life escaped from the wound. Jarvan stood motionless over the corpse in silent contemplation. It was all a lie, he thought to himself. He lied just to lead me astray. He turned and began to walk away, passing between his two most trusted guards: Garen and Shyvana.

"Do you believe any of it to be true, my lord?" Garen's words broke the silence as they walked. The warrior glanced over his shoulder at the body, the erubescent pool creeping ominously along the stones. Royal guards were already approaching to dispose of the dead man and the coming rain would wash away the remnants of the deed.

"Not without evidence." The Prince's words were cold as the steel in his hands, both of which matched the expression on Shyvana's face. He could tell that she was having the same thoughts. "It is a delicate matter and must be handled as such. The events that transpired will only be discussed with Demacian Lightbringers."

"Understood, my lord," was the only response. If Garen had any contradictory thoughts, his loyalty would always stand in the way. The man had been a loving friend, and essentially brother, since they were children. Jarvan knew he could always count on him to do what was right in the face of necessity.

"Please, go fetch Lux and Xin and bring them to the meeting hall." This time, Jarvan's words were an order rather than discussion. It wasn't often that Garen ever spoke as though it were a friend-to-friend conversation anyway. The warrior almost always regarded Jarvan as his liege and lord. For that, the Prince of Demacia could never repay him as it set the standard across the Kingdom in the wake of proof that there would be no favoritism or bias.

"At once, my lord." Garen quickened his pace and turned once they were through the portcullis of the castle. As he moved with such a dutiful pace, Jarvan was left with Shyvana. They walked without so much as glancing at one another. There was a tension there that no one else would ever be aware, as well as a connection that ran just as parallel. Of course, there were a number of things that weighed on their minds rather than the issue at hand. The pair simply made a phenomenal effort, with success, to focus on the more prevalent issues at hand.

The sound of metal on metal rang across the walls of the great hall, coming from Jarvan's artisan steel mail. The atmosphere was rather stoic in the absence of all Demacian council members. Perhaps desolate was a better word. Both his boots and Shyvana's gave an ominous sound to the chamber as they stepped in near unison. The atrium was suddenly that of a human heart, beating at the center of a Kingdom whose life blood was forever being spilled. Silence resumed for a moment when they finally reached the head of the table and the Prince seated himself. Shyvana placed herself to his left, leaving the seat to his right open for the Captain of his guard. Neither of them were particularly poised for conversation but the topic needed to be addressed. Shyvana was the first to speak.

"What do you make of the agent's claims?" The half-dragon was always a little less traditional in how she spoke to him. Aside from the fact that she came from a much more humble background, she also held a position that strayed from what anyone else had.

"Allegations against the Insitute of War are very serious..." he began cautiously, "as their power and influence stretch far beyond most anyone else's in Runeterra." Jarvan thought carefully before speaking again. He wasn't sure if paranoia plagued him or if he was simply erring on the side of caution, but he would not openly speak against the institute out loud. "The Institute mediates the conflicts of the world, resolving them with fewer problems. I am not sure what they would gain by this if it is true." Shyvana nodded in agreement while her eyes lingered over the table. Before either of them could spare another thought or word, the remaining three Lightbringers entered the hall. Footsteps echoed again, giving the great hall a pulse once more. Each warrior took their respective seat, adjusting themselves before looking to their Prince.

"A spy was captured, questioned, and killed this evening." Jarvan said without warning. He wasn't surprised to see that there were no sudden reactions on the newcomers' faces. Espionage was an expected practice. "Before his untimely death, he made allegations against the Institute of War." Now this provoked some subtle reactions before Xin spoke.

"Well, I'm sure this doesn't have a happy ending." His sardonic tone was usual while foreshadowing Jarvan's continued explanation.

"The agent claimed that the Institute of War hired him to sabotage our forges and libraries, making it appear as though Noxus had performed the deed." The Prince observed his audience and allowed a moment for any input. Lux was next.

"That doesn't make any sense. The Institute..." she began.

"...are mediators, I know," Jarvan finished her sentence and continued, "I suggested the same to Shyvana and still haven't concluded what they could gain from such an act."

"Perhaps it is a rogue element..junior members with a grudge..." Garen added.

"The High Council would be aware if something like that were going on." Xin declared

"It could simply be an attempt by Noxus to cause us to misstep and accuse the Institute of sabotage." Shyvana said calmly. Jarvan had drawn the same conclusion and saw it as the most likely.

"I agree, but mostly because I would have more faith that the Institute would hire a more capable agent than what I found this night." The Prince's gaze was hardened by the thought of either scenario. The war between Demacia and Noxus had been going on longer than his own existence. Rune Wars in their history were the primary reason the Institute of War even existed now. Catastrophic battles of might and magic had laid waste to the world they lived in, threatening the continuity of their livelihood. If the Institute existed to keep these conflicts in check and preserve their existence, why would they risk it all by provoking more bloodshed? Jarvan shared these thoughts with his counsel.

"You pose the perfect point, my lord." Garen observed, seeing the points as his friend presented them.

"It's as I've said before I called everyone here, it is a delicate matter and we must keep quiet. Until we can gather more information it will not do to shed more blood. Am I understood?"

"Yes, my lord." The response came in unison, even from Shyvana, who shared a lingering stare with their Prince as she said it.

"Before I dismiss you all," he began, "you are tasked to spread the word that the sabotage was a success. Restrict access to the forges and libraries in attempt to make it appear they needed to be repaired. Ensure Poppy oversees her smithies' cooperation. Lux, you are to oversee the elders' cooperation from the libraries."

"What would you have us do, following the announcement of the sabotage, my lord?" Garen asked. The two friends exchanged a look and Jarvan only allowed a subtle grin to tug at his lips.

"Xin, Shyvana, and myself will be departing three days after the announcement for the Institute of War," he began, "and you, Garen, will be taking a longer trip..." His smile became more pronounced as the Captain almost visibly began to blush. It was at that moment that he realized where he must go and what the Prince of Demacia was doing. Garen blinked hesitantly and sighed, but he wasn't sure if it was dread or something else before he confirmed aloud his realization of who he was going to meet with.

"Katarina."


	2. Chapter 2 - Darius

**II. Darius**

Twilight nestled itself into the lands on either side of the Ironspike Mountains. It would have been a beautiful sight for anyone that took pleasure in those kinds of things. Sunsets, oceanic horizons, clear and starlit nights, were all sentimental observations. The Hand of Noxus was more distracted by the fact that his blade had not tasted blood for some time now. There was an innate thirst that needed to be satiated when regarding such a man. His need for blood wasn't nearly so strong as the hemomancer, Vlad, but only because of the lack of necessity in a literal sense. No, Darius needed to spill the very essence of life or he slowly became irritable.

Zaun had slowly come into view amid his thoughts about death dismemberment. The rest of his travel on horseback was preoccupied with much the same kind of thought, mixed with the plans he was sent to put in motion. Noxus was nothing if not careful when executing any course of action. Ever since the assassination of Boram Darkwill and Grand General Swain's rise to power, there was no margin for error. In a society free of emotional restraint where natural selection is a nearly tangible monster, there could never be any margin for error. Mistakes were a death sentence. One of his outriders reminded him of the reality surrounding him.

"General, the gates are opening."

Zaun. It was the first time anyone spoke on the way to their most allied city-state, but there usually wasn't much room for conversation. Urgot stood on the other side of the gate. If he could have smiled...well he likely wouldn't have. The Headsman's Pride, as he was called, remained at Zaun for some time in preparation for the chain of events they were attempting to set in motion.

"Welcome, General Darius." The distorted voice that erupted from the abomination was ghastly for anyone unprepared. Accompanied with the hextech gearwork and gruesome piecework of flesh, Urgot was likely the most sickening sight in all of Runeterra. Darius loved it. He eyed over Noxus' famed executioner, from the metallic spider-like legs, past the metal-to-flesh connection at the waist, up to the stapled and cauterized flesh of his torso. The mechanical man was a legend and rumored to be immortal after being brought back to life from grievous wounds. Being cut in half usually stops a person from roaming amongst the living.

"I would extend pleasantries but I believe we both find those unnecessary, Executioner." A simple nod was exchanged by both of them as Urgot ushered them through the arched entrance. The pollutants and smog that managed to escape the city and out into the countryside was minimal at best compared to what they moved into. The olive drab gasses were so thick and abundant that it covered most of the city from ground to roof top. Streets grew quiet as they passed, hydraulic operation being the most accompanying noise emitted by their escort. Darius spied several young men covered in "Shimmer". The nasty substance was techmaturgical waste which they believed could make them stronger. Naturally, it was degenerative and most fell victim to a painful death. Some were maddened by the ill effects. One such fool sought to make a name for himself as he charged the Noxian General. Darius was not sure what the young man hoped to accomplish but he gripped his axe with a quickness unparalleled by most any mortal. His movements were fluid and fast, and the cries of the rushing youth were cut short much the same as he was. The head was severed in the blink of an eye, arterial spray erupting from the open wound atop his shoulders. It was a morbid fountain with a torso attached. The lifeless body fell to its knees, spurting blood for a few more seconds and then slumping over to one side. Darius grinned and simply held his axe down to one side as he rode, dripping the adolescent's blood from the razored edge.

The rest of the entourage barely made note of the encounter from both fear and familiarity. Urgot did not even turn to see what happened. Zaun's nearly non-existent government had no authority figures in the city so there was no standardized law and no responsive force. There was only a corpse in the street, slathered in waste, blood, and missing a head. Temporarily satisfied, Darius continued their trek, dismounting a short time later. They descended beneath the city where the laboratories were more abundant and the pollutants were even worse. It wasn't until they finally reached a sliding door with the letters 'RND' scrawled on it with what appeared to be more shimmer as it glistened on the surface. The doors slid open and they stepped inside to a room full of tables laden with beakers, test tubes, and burners. Cadavers were scattered about the room on many operating tables. Some had their heads held open by tools. Others had their chests split with organs replaced by an assortment of devices or organic reconstructions.

"Ah, if it isn't Hand of Noxus himself!" The scientist addressed Darius with a spastic voice. The genius level of insanity could almost be seen as it drifted through the air.

"Dr. Mundo." This was the only response in greeting The Madman of Zaun. Before him stood a behemoth of what once was a man, driven insane by experimentation and the ambition of his own work. His eyes seemed to glow and everything about him was just distorted to a level beyond normal.

"You come to see Mundo's work?" The crazy scientist had all but butchered his own brain using himself as a test subject.

"High Command likes to keep an eye on its projects," Darius said.

"Mundo's projects are his own," came the reply.

"And in exchange for support you work on our project. That's the deal, Mundo."

"Of course. Of course. Mundo only kids you." The bellow of laughter that escaped was gilded with aberration. He dropped the tools he held and stepped toward a back door that slid open. The gearwork in city was amazing. That was no surprise given their rivalry with Piltover in contesting who will lead innovation for hextech along with the fact that the Advanced College of Techmaturgy was in Zaun. What waited on the other side was a dark room, absent of any light other than what made it through the door they just entered. As the good doctor waddled into the darkness as though he had nocturnal vision, an ethereal feel was added due to the subdued chuckles and snickers trailing behind him.

"I trust you will shed a little light on the subject, Doctor." The pun was a bit abnormal coming from someone like The Hand, and ultimately lame. Darius had no intention of being funny, though, and expected some kind of response. His comrades knew his brow was furrowed over a visage of consternation, even in total darkness.

"Of course. Of course," came the only response through the darkness. It was at that moment that the lights slowly flickered. The sound of electrical currents hummed in the walls and a crescendo of buzzing whirred to its pinnacle at the center of the room's ceiling.

Finally, there was illumination, and what sat before the Noxus General was beyond what he expected to see.


	3. Chapter 3 - Graves

**III. Graves**

Smoke filled the room of Myron's Murderhole. The bar was always busy to some degree and this late afternoon was no different. Rum was the strongest scent in the air, followed by burning tobacco, then the putrid smell of body odor from the less savory patrons that didn't bathe regularly. Despite all of these things there was one prominent element that would always linger in the air no matter what else was present. Saltwater. The unmistakable presence of the sea had its ethereal tentacles wrapped around every able body that set foot on the islands. For those that called the treacherous waters home, it was fabled that the salted waters coursed through their veins now. At that thought, Malcolm Graves saw grounds for why so many of the wretched bastards were sour and hard to stomach.

"Wha...I did'n cheat ya son'bitch!"

That was the only warning Graves got before two men came tumbling on top of his table. The wood split in nearly an instant, splinters scattering through the air and glasses of unfinished rum were tossed across the bar. One particular customer was bludgeoned by The Outlaw's half empty glass of Myron's Dark. It was an understatement to say he was unhappy about the most recent chain of events. Staring blankly across the room, he slowly gripped the stock of Destiny, his expertly crafted shotgun. The two gamblers were still in the floor, exchanging blows and rolling around on the debris of what was once a table.

Onlookers became aware of Malcolm's anger and quickly tried to return their attention to the mugs or cards before them at each table. Even the pianist in the corner, who had stopped once the commotion began, resumed his playing and refused to take his eyes of the sheet music. This sudden change of atmosphere made the brawlers look up from one another at the bearded beast of a man. His face had reddened slightly in the fury boiling inside and tendrils of smoke seemed to snake their way from his cigar, making their around his head like a serpent. They both began to scramble for the door. They only just made it to their feet before his voice seemed to grab them.

"Don't even think 'bout it..." His voiced seemed to boom at even a normal speaking voice. The cigar was nearly bitten in two from where he started gritting his teeth. He let Destiny rest in the booth as he stood and retrieved a thick piece of wood that was once a table leg. He drew it back and swung, walking into the hit. His victims were still facing the swinging doors of the exit. The table leg splintered over their backs as they fell forward from the force, almost vaulting face first to the floor. Graves dropped what was left of the wood to the floor.

"Consider yerselves lucky," he began as he lifted the shotgun from the booth and made his way toward the door. "I see you two ag'in and I'll put a hole in ya." He dropped the now ruined cigar next to the hand of the one accused of cheating and stomped it out, smashing the man's fingers with his heel at the same time. His accuser chuckled amid the pain but got a boot to the side of the face for it. Both were groaning in pain as he stepped out into the humid air of the port city. Sails dotted the entire area, accentuating the fact that Bilgewater was the focal point for a lot of trade and a less-than-legal sort of sailor. The mostly lawless city-state was so abundant with pirates, a person couldn't throw a rock without hitting the better part of a crew.

The Outlaw perused the bustling dock as he pulled another cigar from his vest. Letting Destiny hang to his side, he unsheathed a dagger from his belt and sliced the tip of the Kumungu cigar. The sound of ships rocking in the water gave a sort of comforting serenade for everyone in the city. Reminiscent of a time when he considered sailing the high seas, he lit the cigar with a match and shook it until the flame was extinguished. The burnt matchstick seemed to float through the air as it was tossed into the water. The ocean song was broken mid-measure as a burly voice seemed to project from nowhere.

"Can yeh nawt go teh Myron's wit'out causin' a blunder, mate?" The Saltwater Scourge himself approached from the opposite end of the dock where his ship was anchored.

"Can anyone...?" Sarah Fortune interjected before Graves could respond. The Bounty Hunter seemed to be accompanying the pirate for what he could only assume was a job. Most times he tried not to concern himself too intimately with their proceedings.

"I di'nt start tha fight, I jus' finished it." A long draw on the cigar and a cloud of smoke was all he offered after the statement. Gangplank only grinned. It was a rare presentation that he showed only for his fellow deviants. Sarah couldn't decide whether the exchange itself was more comical or if it was the way they talked.

"If you didn't help me make a profit, I'd probably just shoot you." She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, looking at the pirate with just enough disdain to justify her tone. He looked at her with a distorted face.

"Yer jus' mad beh'cause me pillagin' turn't up moar gold than yers.." She eyeballed him at that remark as well, but they were always bickering so Malcolm didn't pay it much mind, nor did he want to know exactly where they were pillagin'. He looked back at Dead Pool, the mighty ship that Gangplank took from his father so many years ago.

"I don't s'pose you two heard any news from tha main land?" This question distracted the both of them, pulling them back to reality instead of a vicarious conversation of theft and plunder.

"It all depends on what you consider news, Malcolm." Sarah said.

"Well, there's not too much can be considered news, is there." They only exchanged looks for a lingering moment. Even Gangplank shared in the exchange. Graves only gnawed on the end of his cigar, taking a short drag. The tip glowed a deep red, the ember consuming more of the tobacco. He lowered the stogie and exhaled, but was cut short before he could speak.

The air itself seemed to swell from the opposite end of the dock where they stood. The dock and his feet were separated as he rose into the air. The Outlaws eyes widened in surprise as time seemed to slow down and he realized what was happening. Sarah was in the air also, as well as Gangplank. They all drifted about ten feet before landing hard on the salt laden wood of the dock. Graves could feel the air escape his lungs after impact of landing. Cinders fell from the sky. Bits of wood and sail both trailing smoke or fire, landed all around them on the dock and in the bay. He could only manage to let out a grunt in anger and pain while lifting himself to his elbows. His ears rang from the massive explosion, his vision blurred from the concussion. It took a few moments to blink the world back into focus and see the devastation. A ship had exploded.

"What the fu..." His words were cut short by his lack of breath. This was no accident. Even his thoughts were in fragments. No ship carried enough powder to do that. He inhaled deeply and pushed out what he could. "Maybe now we should talk..." another breath, "...about any news."

The damage was cataclysmic compared to what was expected of a normal mishap with the ships. Sometimes a fool might slip up and drop his lantern below deck next to the powder. But this... The ship that blew was obliterated and a few ships around it seemed to be taking on water from holes on the sides of the blast. Remnants of the sails and small debris were all that remained, floating in the water or lying about the dock. The surprise was evident on both Sarah's face and Gangplank's.

"Aye, thar seems teh be somethin' amiss in Bilgewater..." The Scourge held his side firmly as he looked up at Sarah and then to Malcolm. It was at that moment Graves saw the crimson creeping between the burly Captain's fingers.


	4. Chapter 4 - Garen

**IV. Garen**

Demacia's most distinguished warrior did not like the circumstances of his travel, nor did he like to separate from his friend and superior, Jarvan IV. He was bound by duty and honor which made him a model soldier for the Demacian military and the most pronounced Captain for centuries. All of these things, his collective existence in such luminous glory, conflicted with where he now stood in waiting. The shadows seemed omniscient in this place, looming from the Ironspike mountaintops in tandem with the ghoulish sounds that escaped the Howling Marsh.

_I shouldn't even be talking to a Noxian,_ he thought to himself. Latent thoughts of past battles shared with The Sinister Blade were enough to elate him. Warriors of his caliber could search their entire lives to find an equal on the battlefield and remain empty for their failure. Someone like Katarina justified the existence of a soldier like himself. _Foolishness,_ he thought. _She's an enemy and has murdered hundreds of your men._ There was always another battle raging inside him when it involved his assassin counterpart.

"I got your message..." Katarina's voice broke the silence and he turned to face her in the darkness.

Her figure was barely visible with the scarce amount of light coming from the night sky. What star and moonlight could escape through the clouds, still lingering from Zaun and its territories over the mountain, hardly allowed either of them to see clearly. He could still make out the provocative shape as she stepped closer, rocking her hips to and fro. Does she purposely try to be so suggestive? He blinked his thoughts to the back of his mind.

"I had faith you might. I am almost surprised you showed up." His response was absolute as he stood with a hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword.

"Awe," she began with ambiguity, "faith in your message delivery but not in me." She gave a pouting face, jutting her lower lip out in playful mockery.

"You mean to say you had full faith that this wasn't some trap?" He only peered at her in caution.

"It would be a terribly inefficient trap with less motive than necessary," she declared.

He knew that she was referring to how he summoned her and she was right. It would have been the most inefficient trap in history, as he traveled all the way to Noxus only to catch a roving guard unaware. The poor soul was forced to return to the city, marked for silence and his armor etched with a rather unique symbol.

"Only you would understand that it was me calling for a parlay," he stated.

Garen left a symbol that very few gamblers used in Bilgewater, where Katarina spent a fair amount of time in her travels. After their numerous exchanges and his unhealthy habit of familiarizing himself with every detail about her, he knew she would make the connection between the symbol and their ongoing feud.

"I think we both know how high the stakes are getting." Katarina grinned maliciously, waiting for the point of their meeting before escalating too far.

"The sabotage in Damacia. Was it Noxus?" He decided to get straight to the point.

"Would I tell you if it was?" she asked. Her obscurity did not help his patience.

"This is serious, Kat...You and I have done a lot to stop all out war before. Are you going to work with me here, or mock me some more?" His attitude seemed to siphon all the playfulness out of her. She narrowed her eyes and replied.

"We didn't sabotage anything of yours," but she hesitated, "that I know of anyway." She gave a look of consternation and continued before he could answer. "I am a ranking officer but not nearly high enough to merit operational knowledge of something like espionage."

Garen gripped the hilt of his sword tighter, the leather of his glove making audible noises as it rubbed against the grip of his blade.

"You mean to say that Noxus could be plotting something and you wouldn't have any knowledge of it...?" His undertones held enough implication to start a fight. He was observant of the fact that Katarina had placed her hands on each hip, playing at the base of her daggers with the tips of her fingers.

"I mean to say that if I did, I would not be at liberty to say. We are still enemies, Garen." Her voice was flat but he knew her words were true despite the stabbing feeling it gave him to make not of such a fact.

_Your judgment is clouded, Garen. She is a worthy adversary, not a lover_, he thought.

"Then why take this meeting?" The warrior looked at her with wonder after the thought had occurred to him. They only stood there, eyes locked and conflict roaring internally more brutal than some battles in the Rune Wars.

"You intrigue me," she admitted. "No other Demacian will stand toe-to-toe with me, so I like to keep the grounds level." Garen knew then that there was more to their rivalry than just battle prowess.

"I think something is wrong in Valoran, Kat." He confided as much as he could. "Possibly all of Runeterra."

She only looked at him curiously. It was clear that the assassin knew of no plot to sabotage Demacia and definitely knew nothing of the accusations the agent had made. Still, there was not enough evidence to disregard the possibility that someone in Grand General Swain's circles was a part of this entire thing.

"Are you simply trying to confuse me or is this a far-fetched attempt to frighten me?" Katarina asked.

"Neither. I am only passing on the concerns of one warrior to another." He turned and began walking away. "Be watchful..."

For a moment, it felt as though there was no side, good versus evil or Demacian versus Noxus. There was an empyrean feeling that simply veiled them, if only for that moment, and they were just two people in the shadows against the world.


	5. Chapter 5 - Karma

_****__Author's Note: I appreciate the massive flow of traffic that I've seen on the story. I hope everyone has enjoyed the chapters so far and assure you all that there promises to be enough to merit following. Leave a comment or message me with any recommendations or thoughts. The story will continue to have a largely canon influence with new twists or ideas. 'Stay tuned' for more chapters and be ready for the next installment. Big things are happening in Runeterra._

**V. Karma**

Waves lapped against the hull of the ship, caressing the wooden beast with salt laden arms. There was a certain serenity to the sound of the water as they moved at its mercy across the The Guardian's Sea. There was nothing but blue skies along the horizon at this point in the voyage, no sign of darkened clouds or treacherous storms to impede their journey. The Enlightened One appreciated the solitude that could be found at the prow of a ship with nothing but the wind to accompany a person's thoughts. Sails whipped in the background of her segregated consciousness, another instrument in the overture that was Runeterra.

"Duchess Karma..." Irelia's voice crept to the foreground of her thoughts.

No one could have broken the contemplative thoughts of her meditation were it not for the fact that she reserved enough attention to ensure she could be brought back to the real world. Even turning to face Irelia, she showed grace and poise.

"Yes, Captain Irelia?" she asked.

"The ship's Captain believes we will see Bilgewater on the horizon by the evening, and reach the city's port on the morrow at dawn." At the finish of her report, Irelia peered out across the horizon to the south. "Do you believe things are as troublesome as they seem?"

There was no mistake that things in Runeterra seemed to be darkening. There was always conflict between, and sometimes within, each of the city-states. It only seemed that times were changing for the worst as of late. Reports had just come that morning about the sabotage in Demacia and only moments later there was a raven carrying a message about an attack in Bilgewater.

"Times are always troubled, but I do believe they are growing worse, yes." Karma's expression seemed blank in comparison to the topic at hand but she was always calm. Being the Duchess of Ionia, it was an iconic attribute. It was almost a pre-requisite for the position, as everyone knew the city-state was home of spiritual evolution and enlightenment. Tranquility was an inherent quality for all of its residents.

"I understand, my Lady." Irelia now perused the deck of the ship as several sailors marched about performing routine checks and a couple of cabin boys were in a squabble over over a nearly empty bottle of Myron's Dark Rum.

Karma indulged in the simplicity of it all. This was the kind of thing her people strived so hard to keep pure before Noxus targeted them for invasion. Even now that they were free of the clutches from the ruthless evil of Boram Darkwill, there was a new Grand General to always be wary of. Jericho Swain was a plague on the face of Runeterra and she would give anything in order to remove such a stain. Shame enveloped her heart when she had such thoughts, but it was the reality of the world. Evil consumed all that was good, even if it was necessary in certain amounts to keep balance.

Both Karma and Irelia wished they could have claimed knowledge of the fact that a newcomer had come to the conversation but it would have been a lie to say such. Shen, The Eye of Twilight, stood just a few feet away from Karma at the prow with hands resting at ease behind his back. When the two women returned their gaze from the people on the ship, they spied the Kinkou Ninja. There was no scare as they were both accustomed to the sudden appearance of Shen and his colleagues.

"Good afternoon, Shen," Karma greeted.

"The ever-watchful eye is upon you, my lady," came the eerie reply as he bowed slightly to the Duchess.

"I trust you and your colleagues have fared well?" She asked.

Shen only nodded and made a gesture that no one would have noticed had they not been intently watching him. At his motion, there came a nearly inaudible thud behind The Will of the Blades. Irelia only half turned to face Akali, bowing slightly in greeting. Karma turned to see the newcomer, nodded, and turned back to Shen. Of course, when she and Irelia returned their gaze, Kennen was there, perched on the ornate carving at the ships prow. The yordle overlooked them all and placed two fingers to his forehead in a somewhat salute to say hello. He always was the more playful one.

"I am pleased to have the company of the Kinkou with me on this trip." Karma's words were sincere and she extended them to ensure she wanted them there as much as Shen felt it necessary.

"And I am pleased to know you wish us to be here as well as understand that it is a necessity." The ninja's gaze was unblinking, unwavering, as he continued, "You are far too valuable to this realm to be going alone to a haven of deviance and subterfuge."

Karma knew Shen's biggest concern was balance. All things must be in order else the universe would plunder. It was a common subject to visit when addressing any important subjects with the Kinkou. Order and balance would always hold priority, regardless of emotion.

"Yes, I know. Regardless of your obligations to be without bias, I am greatly appreciative of your efforts. It means a lot to me, and to all of Ionia, for you to preserve the seat of our city and its position to ease dissonance in Runeterra." The Duchess was sure to address the man with respect and assurance because it was important for him to oversee all that transgressed in, generally, all of the world. There were not enough of the Kinkou to benefit all lands as truly needed.

"Your words are appreciated, my Lady. Ionia is the last city-state to uphold moral principle and selfless acts for the good of Runeterra." This was the simple fact that upheld his strong support for all that Ionia did. She knew this and took pride in that fact, because most of the realm was corrupt in its dealings. It was understandable as to why. Mortals were plagued with their own free will, and it led them to make poor decisions based on emotion or bias. Even Ionians were guilty of incorporating too much emotion regarding their decisions.

"Then you will be overseeing this emergency call for aid?" Karma asked.

"Yes, my Lady." All three Kinkou bowed their heads a bit at the question in order to convey their own dedication as well. "Then I thank you. It is not often that a famed pirate of Bilgewater would call for aid."

Leagues across the water there was a pirate, notorious for his questionable deeds and misconduct. After the anonymous attacks on a ship at port in the chaotic city, they were informed that the champion Gangplank had been injured. The message did not denote the severity of the injuries outside of come at once. She could only assume that Sarah Fortune was gambling on the generosity and good will of Ionia when requesting aid. There was no other land with more skilled practitioners in healing. Perhaps the popularly proclaimed 'Pirate King' would suffer the limitations of mortality if they did not aid. Even Karma did not care to take that chance.

She had her own intentions.


	6. Chapter 6 - Jarvan IV

**Author's Note:** _I apologize for taking a couple of days to get this one published. Things have been hectic the past few days but this chapter holds a little more weight than usual so I it should make up for it. Feel free to comment on what you do or don't like and I'll have the next chapter up soon. Buckle up, because I plan to make it an interesting ride. _

**VI. Jarvan IV**

The Prince of Demacia stood before the Council of Equity, awaiting their response after relaying the news from his home. The decision was made to exclude the accusations against the institute until they knew more, but he hoped something would be said or done to signify whether the agent had been speaking truth. Vessaria Kolmineye sat in his center seat, face shrouded from view beneath the mysterious hoods which the summoners always wore. Jarvan only assumed they were discussing the matter without speaking allowed. The powers of the Council were just as masked by wonder as Vessaria's face was by darkness. Beneath strands of hair, heavy with sweat, he stared at the fire bowl near the right hand corner of the High Councilor's seat. Any longer and he would have gotten distracted by the whisper of the flame.

"Your reservations for the events which have transpired in Demacia have been noted, Prince Lightshield. Do you wish to initiate a declaration of conflict to be settled on The Fields of Justice?" Vessaria's voice echoed across the smooth stone surfaces in the Council's chamber.

"I do not wish to pursue a fight in this instance, Councilor Kolmineye, but I thank you. I only wanted the council to be aware of the events." He tried to prevent himself from sounding dismissive of the _attempted_ sabotage. Too much disregard would provoke suspicion and reveal the fact that Demacia did not suffer from the attack.

"Very well, Prince Lightshield." The proceeding did not last long, as he suspected. The High Councilor gestured with one arm and it was only a moment before The Judicator was at his side. Jarvan had met the immortal with wings of justice on a number of occasions before, sometimes on the opposite side of Summoner's Rift. The woman was the epitome of what anyone could describe as Justice, were the concept tangible.

"I shall escort you out." Her tone held respect, weighted with the proper tone despite that she did not address him with any titles. Councilor Kolmineye regarded him with such out of courtesy, he knew. Kayle, on the other hand, simply took the unbiased position.

Their steps resounded with each footfall. It was a chorus of percussion with how voluminous and empty the Council of Equity's chamber was. Once they passed through the doorway of that specific chamber, it did not improve much. First was the corridor back to the main atrium, adorned with statues of past champions and person of influence. Despite Noxus evil roots, the likeness of Boram Darkwill stood along one wall. Perhaps the most important of all the sculptures was that of Reginald Ashram, former High Councilor of The Institute of War. The beloved leader had disappeared over half a decade ago and no one had information. Rumors of foul play spread, as well as the theory that Councilor Ashram had simply seen enough of the inherent darkness that plagued Valoran and Runeterra as a whole.

The popular theory, regarding who was essentially the father and pioneer of The League, was that he had been removed from his seat by Heywan Relivash. This was so popular because of his part in the conspiracy for the League to gain control of Kalamanda for the Nexuses found there. Jarvan remembered the whole bloody mess, and how Relivash had essentially provoked a small war between Demacia and Noxus during the campaign of the two city-states to get exclusive mining rights. _Could Heywan have been innocent? Could The Institute have used him as a patsy? For that matter, were they ALL guilty?_

The thoughts were rampant as he walked blindly next to the proverbial archangel. He tried to explore every scenario and evaluate each one to decide which was most likely based on what evidence he had. It wasn't until he thought he might have been reaching a conclusion that he realized where they were. They had just descended the steps into what he could only describe as a mage's cloister, riddled with confinement quarters. _This is where they keep all of them_, he thought. By 'them', he was referring to the prisoners of The League. This place housed Champions that would only see the light of day through the control of a summoner on a field of justice.

The Prince looked at each cell as they passed, each with a small area made transparent by magic and viewable from only the side they walked on. He spied one chamber with nothing but a vivid bright light shining down in a perfect circle, a terrible heat emitting from the door. There was one with just a solid stone door, another metal door across from it that seemed to emit darkness and the sound of crows. Kayle led him past an enormous door braced with steel pillars and chains. There was no window or even a way to open the chamber that he could see. There was only reinforcement and the sound of visceral growls accompanied by quakes that could only be caused by a gargantuan being.

"Where are you taking me, Lady Kayle?" Jarvan knew what was behind that door they had just passed from experiences on The Fields, but had no urge to confront the beast again any time soon.

"I am taking you to find answers." Her tone seemed finite, left wanting for more explanation. He was unsure as to whether or not he should pursue.

"Answers to what inquest?" he asked.

"Your own," she replied.

Her short answers were proof that she was not going to discuss anything in depth. Whether she planned to at some point, he could not say. He only knew that she was taking him to find answers for what happened in Demacia. Even a child could have drawn that conclusion. His take on the matter...she was acting outside of the Council's behest.

"This is where I believe you will find clarity if there is any to be had." Kayle stopped walking at the end of the long line of cells. They stood before a door that glowed a deep blue, crystal shard adorning the edges. He had seen those before. Nexus fragments, he thought, whoever is in here must be a serious player. Kayle placed her palm on the door and it glowed a little brighter before sliding away into the ornate stonework. She motioned for him to step inside and he did as much. As soon as they were inside, the door covered the opening once more and they were closed inside with whoever was held here.

"Ah, the Prince of Demacia..." the voice came from a darkened corner of the chamber. It was larger than he expected, but still a humbling space to be trapped in as a prisoner of The Institute. "What has an old man like me done to deserve the presence of such a...respected figure?"

The old man had a deep and rugged tone, exemplifying his years, though he seemed mildly sarcastic with his address. Jarvan was still at a loss for he did not know who he was addressing, though he deducted that it was not a normal prisoner. He peered at the darkness in the direction of the voice.

"I was hoping you could tell me why I am here." His eyes cut to Kayle for on a second as she stood off to his side.

"I would assume you seek enlightenment for an otherwise perplexing situation," the prisoner said.

"You would be correct. What do you know of it?" Jarvan asked.

"Word travels, rumors spread...what does anyone truly know?" The cryptic response irritated The Exemplar of Demacia.

"You mean to insult me by wasting my time." He had half a mind to turn and exit, but he was at the mercy of his escort. As someone just short of a King, he felt spiteful for the lack of control.

"No sweet Prince. I mean to educate you..." The prisoner hesitated and stood. His silhouette was only barely visible in such a dim light. The sound of liquid being poured into a glass was all that preceded his next words. "Runeterra, Valoran specifically, is ill will a disease which spreads through premeditated subterfuge and hate. For longer than even Jarvan, the first of his name, could recall, this continent has suffered."

The old man had filled two glasses now and the pitcher had been returned to its place, only discernibly so by the sound it made. Jarvan cursed the dark.

"Now, however, there is a new malignance in Valoran." Jarvan could see runic calligraphy floating from where the man was tending the glasses. They were bracelets...no, they were irons, emblazoned with with the runic text to hinder him. That was the only plausible explanation, anyway. The floating text turned and began approaching this time.

"Like never before, Valoran is suffering from an ignorance that will ultimately lead to their pacification. Every city-state will be bound by the Institute's power. They will not eat without the Council's say." He stepped closer. "They will not sleep without the Council's say." Another step. "And they will not breath, without the Council's say, and only one man can help you stop them."

Jarvan's eyes widened a little when he realized who he was standing with. The old man extended his hand with a glass of wine in offering to The Prince, as he stepped into what little light was coming from the door. Jarvan took the glass and only glared at the prisoner with a mix of hatred and confusion. The old man grinned at his reaction and took a sip of wine. He couldn't say that he expected to be entertaining such an audience, but now he had to pursue so many more unanswered questions. Jarvan took a drink of the wine and blinked some more, hoping his eyes would adjust better and it would be someone different. It did not change. It was still the same old man.

_Heywan Relivash._


	7. Chapter 7 - Lucian

**Author's Note:** _I'd like to thank everyone for the views, follows, and favorites. I'm also appreciative of your patience as this unfolds. Some days I rush to finish writing and overlook minor mistakes or grammatical errors. Sometimes my writing feels a bit choppy also, so I apologize. This chapter also holds some weight as it ventures a little further from the story lines we all know. Stay tuned for the next episode!_

**VII. Lucian**

His breath lingered in the air for a time longer than most would have expected. The cold in Freljord was inexplicable. With each exhale, The Purifier felt as though he were leaving a trail of frozen clouds. Somewhere in the back of his mind he thought of a steam engine rolling down iron tracks and that was the comparison he stuck with. It wasn't because he liked steam engines, but it made him think of a piping hot, techmaturgical vehicle. Even for a seasoned hunter like himself, it took all the constitution he had not to submit to such temperatures.

Through the trees, encased in ice and absent of any green, he followed his target. The creature was lumbering one step at a time along the shore. He smelled of death and it hugged his living corpse like a layered blanket shrouded in grave dust. Lucian's steps were silent and barely made a print in the hardened snow. He slowly reached for the twin relic pistols at his belt, gripping the unique weapons and drawing them out for the kill. His stealth was unparalleled...but wasn't good enough. The Gravedigger stopped and spoke solemnly.

"Your attempts at stealth, are folly." His hesitant speech gave a grim presence when accompanied by the ghostly voice. "If you believe..you can end my afterlife..I openly present the challenge.." The old man, Yorick Mori, never looked away from his direction of travel and began walking again. Lucian only stared at the harbinger of death. This was one of the key players in the mystery of the Shadow Isles. A hunter like himself could not let The Gravedigger simply walk away. He knew the old man had roamed the world for centuries untold, ushering the dead from one state to another. It was his job when he was a mortal to dig the eternal resting places for people. Now in death, he managed the same.

"Alas, poor Yorick, you know too well...tonight you embrace a true end." Lucians words came smooth and cast with resolve. It was the last of their dialogue.

The Purifier knelt and dug one foot into the ground and lunged between the trees toward the shore. He had only closed the gap about half way before the ground quaked beneath him. The frozen soil erupted and a vile creature sprung from the center. It was laden with filth and smelled of decay. The thing was rushing toward Lucian, but the hunter had avoided the site of dismay. He rounded on his path to Yorick but was cut off again. This time it was a creature bearing fangs large enough to maul an urf by itself. Blood dripped from every fang and it seemed to long for more. This one appeared so close to him that it raked claw and tooth along his right thigh as he strafed just in time.

By the time the hunter had looked up, The Gravedigger had closed the gap between them himself. There were no trees where they were at on the shore now; no obstacles or defense. He felt the fossilized metal connect with his chest and thanked the heavens for his instant loss of breath. This meant that the shovel connected with the flat side and not with an edge, which surely would have killed him. The blow threw him backward in the air, but he liked to think that sheer will allowed him to stabilize himself to land on his feet. Kneeling with each pistol in hand, he looked up at the approaching entourage. Lucian's eyes seemed to glow with a yellow hue.

"Enough...," he muttered beneath his breath.

The Purifier stood and squared off with the evil before him. His jacket was mottled with a green substance that gave off a putrid smell. He pointed each of the weapons forward and they erupted with an ardent blaze. The aura emitted from the blast was enormous as it sped forward into the snarling monster with the fangs. On impact there was an explosion that in turn lanced through the other two creatures. A cross was burned into the ground from the attack as each of the summoned lieutenants dissolved into ash.

The rune-slinger dashed in an arc. It was a relentless pursuit but Yorick did not give in to the chase. The Gravedigger only stood there watching the man circle wide and raise his pistols. Shots rained in at the hunter's aim and began connecting without hindrance. Fragments of light pierced the reanimated flesh in quick succession, tearing through bone and cloth. His enemy lurched at each blow and finally staggered.

Falling to one knee, Yorick heaved a sigh. It was an instinctual thing as he no longer needed breath. He looked up at Lucian through a tangled mess of hair beneath a tattered hood. The hunter approached, knowing the old man was experiencing his final moments. It was in poor form that he still saw his prey as an old man, knowing he was no longer human. Still, there was a respect there that would remain for eternity and it allowed him to see his foe in a better light.

"Have you any words to offer for all that you've done in this world?" Lucian asked.

Yorick looked up at him, blankly. It was almost as if he weren't even there anymore. The look he gave was so absent of any life that it gave Lucian a higher justification for what he was doing.

"Very well. May you rest in peace."

The rune pistol was raised level with Yorick's temple. A piercing light shot forth from the end. It was over as fast as it started. The Gravedigger slumped over in a lifeless heap the same as he had in his existence as a mortal. The Mori family line had finally come to an end, able to rest for eternity in some semblance of peace. Lucian turned and tucked the pistols in his belt, pulling his jacket tighter around him. The cold returned to the forefront of his worries. _I'll be glad to get out of this cold_, he thought. He wasn't sure how to feel about his victory. It was almost as if the undead usher let him win. Perhaps he had finally just resigned.

He relished the warmth of his weapons beneath his garb, looking forward to a warmer climate...and his next target in Zaun...

A glowing pair of eyes looked on from the darkness of the forest. The scene that unfolded had gone precisely as planned and he could not be happier. Karthus, known as The Deathsinger, hovered motionless in heavy shadow. Even what light the moon cast was blocked by the thick, high-topped evergreen trees. A familiar voice raked the night air.

"His soul..begs for departure.." Yorick leaned heavily on the iconic shovel, pressed into the ground before him.

"Yes, it does," Karthus agreed, "but it is not his time. He is the key for something bigger." The lich's voice was hesitant also and completely inhuman. The spectral sound was comparative to white noise, but that was expected given that he was the embodiment of something no one had ever really deciphered. The closest descriptor was death itself.

"I must prepare..for the coming residents.." It was mostly disdain that secreted from his tone. Yorick simply wanted his atonement so that he may finally ascend the final rung in death's ladder. This was not such a day. He would never be free until oblivion was done with him.

The pair of Shadow Islanders retreated further into the darkness, leaving fate to unravel itself.


	8. Chapter 8 - Caitlyn

**VII. Caitlyn**

"Keep running!" came the shout from The Night Hunter.

Without a word in return, Caitlyn pressed on. Her gait was more sequential leaps than a normal run. She was a gazelle with very unconventional predators. The steady throb of her heart acted as a metronome for the performance. The Sheriff of Piltover was careful to keep her breathing steady, maintaining a calculated rythm so as not to falter before she could escape. She finally came to a series of barren hills. The landscape just southeast of the Howling Marsh was desolate and left wanting for anything lush until you neared The Institute of War.

The smell was what told her that she still hadn't opened enough distance. The putrid rats that came out of city were ravenous and their pied piper was Twitch, The Plague Rat of Zaun. The damned creatures were anything but normal, bordering on sentience like their leader. Caitlyn could only guess that the crazed vermin had gotten closer to discovering what had lifted him from a disgusted sewer rat to a neurotic and less than functioning member of society. Her thoughts were only a distraction though as some of the things were catching up. Shauna Vayne had fallen a little farther behind because she kept stopping for seconds at a time to impale a few of their pursuers with crossbow bolts.

Caitlyn spun on heel and lifted her rifle to fire multiple rounds before tossing a handful of traps in an arc before her. _That should slow them down_, she thought, _Shauna won't trip them, either_. She's too good for that. She didn't make it ten feet more before she heard several of the vile rats get caught in the razored teeth of her traps.

"Cleansing blood with silver!" she heard from behind, followed by an unfamiliar voice.

"Oh ho ho, yes yes!" The ringleader himself had seemingly appeared from nowhere.

The Sheriff turned in time to see the nasty rat as he drew back his arm to throw a cask of what looked like a corrosive, green liquid. _I don't think so_, she thought as she raised her rifle again. The unparalleled technology of her tech-rifle was an ace in the hole as she zeroed in on The Plague Rat. She didn't know if it was instinct or some unexplained sense but as the round erupted from her barrel the smaller rodents leapt in unison. It was a sacrificial play and to Caitlyn's disappointment, it worked. The charged bullet ripped through about six of them before it halted traveling.

"You were lucky this time you beast..." She spoke just loud enough for Twitch to hear her.

"Heheh, I think yooou are the lucky ones!" His smile was almost as cringeworthy as his smell.

"Go, Caitlyn! I can take care of this." Shauna's words preceded her firing a bolt in condemnation with the intensity of a ballistae. Twitch raised a plated forearm but the blow knocked him back several feet and onto his back. Caitlyn rested her faith in The Night Hunter and pressed on. It was imperative that she make it to the Demacians before they left The Institute.

It was only moments before only her breathing and thoughts kept her company as she was in no imminent danger of being caught now. They suspected that someone had caught them spying when they retreated from their high vantage point overlooking Zaun. Paid informants had told Caitlyn of the Noxian General's departure for Zaun a day in advance. She was able to consult with Shauna before his arrival in order to infiltrate the city's walls and oversee just what was going on.

The lady marksman was only disappointed when all that they could see leaving the city was a covered wagon in tow of Darius, The Hand of Noxus. The Noxian executioner was also part of the posse as they made their way out of Zaun back toward their home. The two of them, champions from different worlds, hoped to get near for a closer inspection but that proved impossible once they routed for a coastline passage around the Ironspike Mountains. For them to pursue and investigate would likely result in captivity. However, their retreat still made them prey to a chase.

The only good that had come from their reconnoissance was the confirmation that Noxus had developed some kind of weapon in tandem with Zaun. The two city-states were always known for their mischief and plotting. This, however, was unraveling to be a farm more devious turn of events. Never before had they worked in such secret. Noxus was too proud to ever try and be sneaky.

"Slow down Sheriff..." The voice startled her.

She had been running and so distracted by thought, she did not realize she had entered the more lush region just northwest of The Institute. She almost as disturbed by the fact that she didn't fully acknowledge her entry into the thinly populated forest.

"Garen!" she gasped in quick response.

Garen Crownguard stepped forward from a small group of trees. She concluded that he took shelter there on her approach. His words confirmed her assumption.

"I heard you coming from a long way, Lady Caitlyn...I'm pleased it was you and not a less savory sort," he said with a cordial tone.

"I can say the same about you." She had stopped running and only glanced behind her just for added security, then returned her eyes to The Might of Demacia. "What are you doing out here?"

She didn't expect full disclosure from Prince Jarvan's elite command element but assumed he may at least give a clue. Vayne operated outside of conventional units in Demacia so it was likely that Garen had no idea that they were working together. In any case, Piltover and Demacia were on good terms.

"I was...on an errand." His hesitation made it apparent that he was not at liberty to discuss the details, but it seemed that the details were more personal than business related.

"Understood." Caitlyn said.

"Why were you running so fast?" His words brought it all back like a bolt of lightning. At this point they were already walking south again toward The Instiute where Garen's colleagues were. During this time, the Sheriff explained everything to Garen; the rats, Twitch, the entourage at Zaun, the covered wagon...

"So, this wagon...did it have any identifying marks? Any unique things about it?" Garen asked. His curiosity showed that he might have more knowledge than he expected. She assumed this might have had something to do with his 'errand'.

"No, not really," she began, "except for the runic markings on the side." At the last of her sentence, Garen stopped walking and stared at the ground in contemplation.

"The markings...were they similar to the ones you see on the Fields of Justice? Especially like the ones at Kalamanda, at the mines?" he asked. She thought for a moment.

"Actually, yeah...yeah, they're pretty similar." Caitlyn's brow furrowed in wonder, hoping he would divulge what was going on in his head.

"Come on," he said as he urged her forward at a faster pace now. "I'll explain when we get to Lord Jarvan..." That was the last thing he said as they clambered through the trees, obviously in a hurry for Garen to share this newfound piece of information.


	9. Chapter 9 - Darius

**Author's Note:** _The website I maintain and write for has taken a lot of attention lately so I apologize for taking so long. You're gonna get a nice taste of a bigger and much juicier dish this chapter. There's something cooking and you'll just have to keep reading to find out what! If you all have any comments or concerns, leave a word once you're finished reading. Enjoy!_

**IX. Darius**

Spies were a valuable asset to The Hand of Noxus. The weasels he paid or intimidated to report back to him was one of the best ways he stayed informed on every detail of what went on around him. This was an instance that it paid off tenfold. One of his informants in Zaun had warned him of two rival champions that were monitoring the dealings in the city. Darius would have been ashamed for his enemies and their carelessness once he heard who it was, but in this particular event it was no surprise. It was difficult to do anything in Zaun without someone knowing of your presence. Perhaps The Plague Rat would do away with them for good and they would be one less problem.

He looked out at the sea, waves lapping calmly at the shore as they walked parallel, some distance away. The sun's light was starting to creep over the horizon and illuminate the heavens above them; whatever heavens did exist, of course. Darius only pondered with a stern look as to why anyone thought sunrises were so gorgeous. Daylight was an operational hazard, a heat risk in the right season, and a hindrance to both his sight and his mood in most cases. No one could ever mistake that he was a man of darkness. There was only one person that ever saw a glimmer of light in the callous warrior and it was brief. The uncharacteristic moment was one he made sure never to repeat else he be seen as weak. He feared the day he might see Irelia again.

"General, a rider is approaching!" The sound of one of his outriders shouting broke his thoughts.

"Shout again and I'll tear your throat out...we don't need attention from any passersby..." he told the guard as he rode by, spurring his horse onward toward the rider. It was another scout, sent to ensure they would not encounter trouble. On approach the man gave a Noxian salute and spoke.

"General, I've seen no signs that anyone will impede the caravan. I don't believe there will be anyone even within sight before we arrive at the destination." Darius nodded and waved at the man.

"Continue your duties. Report to me only if you find something. Prepare ships for boarding once the caravan is near the port," he said.

The scout nodded, saluted, and turned his horse. He spurred and took off quickly. The Hand turned and rode back to the caravan, taking a place next to Urgot at the far front of the formation. The executioner moved exceptionally fast for having such awkward prosthetics.

"By my estimate, we will be in Icathia by tomorrow. Do you believe this will work?" Darius asked.

"If it does not, we can always find another weapon," came the oddly mechanical response. To anyone else, Urgot's voice might be exceptionally creepy. Darius had simply grown accustomed to it. There also wasn't much that sickened or creeped out Noxus's highest ranking General.

"In any case, I trust you are prepared for whatever awaits us in those ruins?" He didn't become such an influential leader in Noxus without covering his bases.

"Of course, General." There was a hint of sarcasm in the executioner's tone but Darius paid it no mind. It would have been hard to tell for sure, anyway.

The risk they were taking by going into Icathia was great, but it outweighed the alternative of what might happen if they did not act. The Hand thought back to the moment that started this.

_"Are you telling me that this was caused by Demacians?" Darius stood inside the bunkhouse on the far end of Noxus. The building housed a small detachment of soldiers; a well trained strike force as it were. Now there was nothing but death inside the quarters. The blood strewn across the walls was a morbid abstract, every bit on a canvas of slaughter. He stood there in a crescendo of rage laden with sense of respect for his enemy._

_Whoever was the cause of this masterpiece was very skilled and precise. Had they struck at the wrong time then they would have been victim to a far worse fate. Had they chosen a target at any other location then it would likely have been the same result. No, this was done by a professional and there were very few that were capable._

_"Command the guards to ready sentries, roving in short intervals at a sixty percent rotation. Don't relent unless I say so." Darius glared once more at the dismembered bodies. Those that fought were mutilated. Those that were caught unaware were simply gutted, organs left to fall in whatever direction the surprised victim fell. "Have this cleaned and report back to me for orders on the allocation of the regular Armies."_

_"Damn The Institute. Fuck the Demacians. To hell with diplomacy and The Fields of Justice. The Lightshields will pay for this and exponentially so. I'll make sure of that by my own hand," he thought to himself._

A new rider approached from the rear of the march. Her voice broke the reminiscence.

"Security has been re-established since we found the missing guard. We have also effectively made it seem as though the caravan returned to Noxus rather than onward down the coast." Katarina did not address him with title and he made note of it. He did not hinge on titles or need the feeling of power, only to be respected.

"Very good. What took you so long to catch up with the march?" His question was blunt but her answer was without hesitation.

"I met with an informant. Demacia has suffered from a sabotage and believes Noxus may be responsible." He watched her closely as she spoke, the whole time she continued to watch the horizon.

"The fools want to place responsibility on the city-state which they attacked already." Darius wasn't sure if it was a clever ploy to justify getting intervention by The Institute or if there was a third party with as much animosity toward Demacia.

"If they actually believe us to be responsible then we would have been beckoned to Summoner's Rift by now," she paused. "There has also been word from our informants in Bilgewater. There was another attack there that left many dead or wounded."

For a moment, The Hand considered the possibility that there may be more going on in Valoran than he realized. He growled almost inaudibly and thought for a moment before speaking again.

"I want you to send ravens to our Captains. Have them issue directives to our informants. I want to know just what's going on around here. We should hear back before the final phase of this operation."

Katarina peeled off from the front of the caravan and returned down the line without a word. He was confident in his instincts but it would be foolish not to gather more information. He remained true to his nature and his position as a General. One way or another, someone was going to die.


	10. Chapter 10 - Graves

**Author's Note:** _We've broken a thousand views for this story so far. I think we're sitting at about 1200 at the time of this post actually and I just wanted to thank everyone that has committed to reading as it develops. This is a precedent to a full length work of fiction of my own content so I just want to thank everyone for the continued views and want you all to know that it will continue to get more interesting. Stay tuned!_

**X. Graves**

The Outlaw couldn't suppress his anger any more than he already had. The cigar hanging from his lips was nearly chewed in two, smoke still snaking its way around his face. He walked with Destiny at his side, gripped by the buttstock, swaying lazily with each of his steps. Sarah kept stride next to him as they marched through the entrance of the Town Hall of Bandle City. It was a wonder they weren't met with any resistance. Neither of them paid any attention to that detail in all their rage. They did take notice to the scurrying around the big rocket above the city when they approached. It was just too peculiar seeing so many yordles frantically grabbing tools and running for cover.

Malcolm and Sarah were on a mission to find out what happened in Bilgewater. Their friend was left in the hands of Ionian care. Albeit very unorthodox, the Duchess Karma came in response to, the popular titled, pirate king's request for aid. Captain Gangplank was by far the most resilient man that Graves knew and the most stubborn. He would likely refuse to die and succeed in his resistance with pure will. There was also the eerie concoction of the citrus variety which seemed to always pull the old sailor from the worst of ailments.

There came a loud and high pitched voice from the front of the hall. It was entirely uncharacteristic for the yordle to have such a loud voice, given his size, but Mayor Dennison Jadefellow addressed them with the loud but shrill tone.

"That's far enough!" he said. The mayor did not rise from the elevated seat. Graves stopped, despite not wanting to. Sarah followed suit. "We have heard of what happened in Bilgewater. We knew someone would be coming soon."

Since his tone was so matter-of-fact, Malcolm took a moment to look around the hall. He recognized the signs of a particular scout that he'd met in battle before, on the Fields of Justice. Teemo, the Swift Scout, would be lurking somewhere out of sight to the naked eye. He was sure of that. Tristana of the Megling Commandos was perched on a second floor landing which overlooked their position. His frustration for having such a bad hand made him want to chew the rest of his cigar whole. At least the ember would be one thing he could extinguish.

"If this gets sour, you get outta here, Sarah," he muttered.

"Not without you."

He cut his eyes without being too obvious when she whispered her refusal. Those three words spoke volumes. They had their differences. Usually they bickered as though they didn't like one another, but that wasn't the case here. Malcolm stowed the thought for another time. He concluded that now was not appropriate to evaluate whatever might be between them. Finally, he spoke with equal fervor as the mayor.

"If you knew we was comin' then maybe you know what we want."

"Given the nature of the incident, I assume you want to speak with the Hexplosives Expert..."

"Yer a bright one."

"Don't insult me, Mister Graves. I am attempting to be respectful."

He let the conversation simmer a second as he eyed the Megling Commando on the landing above. A second thought, he gave to the scout he imagined still stood invisible somewhere.

"Sure is a funny way of bein' respectful. Maybe if I point my gun at you, it'll be just as nice." He didn't raise his gun but at least he made his point.

"You know there is a sort of...caution when it comes to anyone coming from Bilgewater, sir."

"You think we'd come all this way just the two of us so we could start a fight?"

"Your point is valid," the mayor began. He rose from the chair and descended the stone stairs while he finished. "Though that does not mean we should not remain cautious."

"Jus' tell us where the bomb-rat is." It was a borderline racial slur, but his temper was getting shorter.

"Ziggs is not in Bandle City, Outlaw. He has been in Piltover for some time, working with the Yordle Academy." His steps were short but he was beginning to close the gap between them. At least he extended a little trust. Perhaps it was a sign of good faith.

"You got any other theories 'bout who could blow up a whole ship like that?" he asked.

"In Valoran, I would say your suspects could be limitless," he said. "In any case, Bandle City had no part in the act." Mayor Jadefellow now stood before Sarah and himself, no higher than their waist. "Please extend our condolences for all those killed or wounded. To prove our innocence, we will dedicate a galley for aid. No reason not to be civilized even with the sordid history."

Graves eyed the little one with suspicion but did not show it. Sarah stood quietly, glancing up at Tristana ever so often. He still felt like there was one more person close to them, no doubt Teemo watching Sarah closely since she always stood with her hands resting on the grips of her pistols.

"I don't speak for Bilgewater but I'll get 'em the message." Malcolm said. "Just be sure and tell ol' Ziggs we'd like to ask 'im who might be able to make such a big boom..."

"Very well. I shall send a copter immediately with the inquiry. Is there anything else I might help with?"

"Naw, that's it...'preciate it Mayor." Graves boiled beneath the surface. This visit got them nowhere closer to finding out who was responsible. He gestured to Sarah as he turned, who hesitantly did the same and they both started walking. On their way down the outer steps, Sarah whispered to him.

"Do you believe any of that?"

"'Bout as much as I believe in flyin' pigs."

"So what do we do now?" She glanced back at The Mothership. The huge rocket had yordles all over it. "And what's with all the dedicated work on that rust-bucket now?"

"We'll have to take a guess later," he began while looking over his shoulder at the thing. Yordles scrambled to avoid their gaze. "Whatever it is, it's important. Anyone hears us talkin' 'bout it here and we'll probably get overrun like two pieces of met on an ant hill." She cut her eyes at him.

"You sweep me off my feet every time you open your mouth, Malcolm." She opened her stride to walk a little faster as they took the last of the steps outside. He looked on, dumbfounded at the sarcasm.

"What did I do now?"

He sped up to stay next to her as they walked toward the port. Whatever was going on here, it smelled bad. He thought to himself what might be going on if Bandle City wasn't responsible. The multitude of possibilities, and the lack of viable ones, disturbed him. Duchess Karma brought news of the sabotage in Demacia. That was two unrelated attacks at nearly the same time. What the hell was going on?

Mayor Jadefellow looked at the pair of deviants as they made their way out of the town square toward the port. He wrinkled his nose at the thought of anyone coming from Bilgewater, but at least it did not end in conflict.

"You lied to them." Teemo approached from behind, now visible and with a concerned look on his face.

"Only because they would not have believed the truth," the mayor said.

"Because they're real mad," came a third voice. Ziggs exited from a meeting room where he observed the exchange. "Even I could tell by peeking through a cracked door that they were real mad. Nobody can think straight when they're that angry." His voice was almost comical the way he screeched with exaggeration.

"It's of no matter. They will not know you were here. You will take a copter back to Piltover first thing in the morning." Ziggs began to object to the mayor's order but he was interrupted. "No. No objections. It is better that they believe you were there this whole time rather than realize I lied for you. If they find out then they will retaliate on the assumption that you were a part of this attack."

Ziggs hung his head like a child that was just denied play time.

"Oooooh kaaaay," Ziggs said. "Then whatta I do?"

"You'll wait, my friend." Dennison averted his eyes to The Mothership above them and grinned. "You shall wait..."


	11. Chapter 11 - Karma

**Author's Note:** _I hope everyone enjoyed this one as much as I did writing it. As always, leave a comment with any thoughts or concerns._

**XI. Karma**

Darkness loomed over her, a towering behemoth with a hooded cloak. At first she thought it was only a shadow, but each step toward her left imprints in the soil. It had become a tangible beast.

"What do you want?!" she screamed.

"Power."

The whisper lingered, echoing in her ear with the quality of an omnipotent breeze. Power? She looked around them, the shadow golem drawing closer. There were faint images of people attacking one another. Feral rage substituted coherent speech. Peace was replaced with war. Steel clashed against steel and in each scream of agony were the throes of magic on flesh.

It was nearly too much for her to stomach, seeing such chaos. There was just so much death. The people grew a little clearer as she looked closer, much like images in a dim room after retreating from a bright day. There were not only humans. Yordles. Minotaurs. Techmaturgical warriors. Voidlings. Abominations. The scene before her was the hate-induced world she lived in. Valoran lay before her in bloodshed and turmoil. The shadow reached for her.

"Power." It repeated.

The sound of another voice drew her back. It always seemed like someone's voice was the only thing to snap them out of thought. Karma had been meditating, trying to reach a better understanding of things beyond their world. She had no idea that she would see Valoran.

"Duchess Karma, the pirate is awake." Irelia's voice was a comfort after what she saw.

"Thank you, Irelia. One moment and we will go to him."

Irelia nodded and waited patiently outside the tent. Karma prepared herself in the cloth walled room. The Ionians were a humble people which explained why they refused any boarding. Elaborate tents and hast shelters were both set up as a camp for themselves. The method was old fashioned but it served two purposes. The Ionians would have control over their own area for security and a gesture to Bilgewater that they would not be any expense during this aid effort.

"Let's go, dear." Karma said. She pretended not to take notice of the peculiar look she was given at the informal address. Irelia never did get very personal with her no matter how much she tried to get the captain to relax. She was all duty.

The building they came to was better than most of them. The city was far from lacking so it would be inaccurate to say the buildings looked bad. 'The pirate king's' quarter, however, was more ornate. Irelia stepped forward and knocked on the door. A large man answered the door, stinking of rum and sweat. His suit was clean, despite being mottled with a few specks of alcohol, but it was all a contrasting moment for the senses. Both women recognized the Freljord native, but it was not often they saw him in such attire.

"Gragas," Karma began, "it is a pleasure to see you. I trust you have been well?" She decided not to question why exactly he was in Bilgewater.

"Aye, 'cept havin' to deal wit this ol' grouch." His accent was heavy with Gaelic and alcohol. Irelia only turned sideways between them to avoid being rude.

"Well it's always a joy to see our friend from the Freljord." She said. No one else in Valoran had a Gaelic influence. It made Karma wonder just where in Runeterra he came from. "I imagine the Captain is a joy after his injuries."

"Ehehe," he gargled. "He's a bloody sot, that one. Drank as much as me 'n still ain't drunk. We got that in common at least." He gave a guttural laugh.

Irelia and Karma both smiled and gave a stunted laugh as Gragas motioned them inside. They made their way through the house, shadows lurking from the scattered candlelight. It reminded Karma of her vision. She was quick to put the thought away once they came to the patient's room.

"So the gurls come te check on the pirate, eh?" Gangplank said. He stood over a large map table looking at a carved overhead of Valoran. It was like a war room for pillagers.

"Yes, Captain. I wanted to ensure your wounds were healing well. My abilities are well developed but I remain cautious," Karma said.

"It's doin' jus' fine muh'lady. I'll be a sailin' in no time fer sure. I never thought that kinda hole could close so fast. I'm much obliged for yer kindness in comin' here."

"I appreciate the kind words. I came on good will and in hopes that this would show we can all exist with some semblance of peace." She wanted to avoid the cliche but didn't know any other way to say it.

"Aye...I hope yeh didn' come hopin' yeh could change muh ways."

"No, nothing like that." She expected that answer but fired back. "I only hope to shift focus, perhaps."

"Eh..?" He looked intrigued now.

"Yes, I hope that you might focus your efforts in a more specific direction. Let's say, a Noxian one?"

Balance, she thought. There must be balance. This was only an effort relieve her own people's suffering and satisfy what might be more Kinkou than Ionian. She reminded herself that the resistance had a more fervent belief than the traditionalists at home.

"Hrmmmm," Gangplank grunted in though. "I s'pose I could make sure some of muh friends see Noxian sails instead of Ionian. I won' be able teh stop 'em all, yeh know?"

"I know," she said and nodded. "I only want relief for Ionia and an understanding with Bilgewater."

"Aye, then yeh got it, muh'lady."

They shook hands by the candlelight of that room with the scent of whiskey and rum. Gragas offered a mug of his fine brew, which the women respectfully declined but the men drank with eagerness. After some small talk, the Ionians gave a beg for pardon and started to depart. The burly drunkard escorted them out again. Before making it to the front door, however, Gragas stopped the Duchess.

"Eh, m'lady. Might I have a word with yeh?" He asked. She stopped with only a second's thought and nodded. She motioned for Irelia to wait in the foyer.

"What is it, Gragas?"

"Just somethin' I noticed, really. I thought it was only in the Freljord, but it seems I was mistaken."

She nodded in acknowledgement, waiting for him to continue.

"There's all kind a fightin' up north, but there always has been. Leas' now there's a little bit a peace. Sejuani still don' like the Queen Ashe and say there be a lot of things amiss." He took a breath. "That's all a differen' story. We all know the north'll never settle down. I'm more talkin' 'bout the crazy folk ever'where else..."

"You mean in all Valoran?"

"Aye, there've been attacks ever'where. Bilgewater, Demacia, Noxus-"

"Wait, Noxus?" Karma didn't know about this one and wondered how Gragas did.

"Aye. There was killin' in Noxus and not by any Noxian."

"How do you know this?"

"I know a good many a people in Freljord and they all talk to an old drunk with joy." It did not answer Karma's question but she understood his intentions.

"So there are attacks happening everywhere that look like attacks from our worst enemies.."

"Aye...even in the North, it looks as though a bear ripped through an Avarosan village. Tore 'em a new arse, really." He took a drink of the brew he'd been ignoring. "This coulda been a real attack, but I'm not so sure Sejuani would 'ave tried to start an open war like that.."

They stood in silence for a moment. It was as though another conversation was taking place without words. Finally, the Duchess spoke.

"I appreciate this enlightenment, but why share this with me?" She asked.

"You're the only one without a darkness, meh'lady. If anyone should know, it be you."

"Well, thank you, Gragas. Your observations are a welcomed thing."

"Aye, jus' le'me know if I need to butt heads with anyone!" He laughed again while finishing his drink. She smiled as they parted ways.

The walk back to their camp was a silent one and Irelia asked no questions. Karma was absorbed in thought, so much that she nearly took the wrong path through the city on their way back. She waved for Irelia to remain outside her tent. Meditation was the only thing on her mind. There had to be more answers, more light to shed on just what was going on._ Attacks in Noxus and Freljord also? This can't be a coincidence,_ she thought. _It's almost too sloppy, like the guilty party WANTS someone to figure it out. She began piecing it together._ All the attacks, the specific targets, the only person with the influence or power to make it all happen...

"No..." she whispered at the realization.

She didn't even see it coming. Her entire body sprawled across the ground the instant after she felt the blow at the base of her neck. Consciousness lingered a moment more and a shadow loomed over her. Was it the same one she saw in her vision? Perhaps. She didn't have the time to find out. Her vision blurred until the world dissolved into darkness.


	12. Chapter 12 - Jarvan IV

**Author's Note: **_I've had some incredible comments on the story so far and I appreciate every word. Given that this is a free posting that's the best reward to inspire me to continue working on it. I'll apologize beforehand about this chapter as there have been surmounting issues distracting me during the entire process. There are choppy moments but it delivers well enough so bear with me yet again. Same as always, leave a comment with any questions or concerns. Enjoy!_

**XII. Jarvan IV**

Flames soared skyward, lashing at the night sky. The fire seemed to breathe, a sentient creature lying in wait for more food. Heat radiated from its center, caressing the face of each onlooker surrounding it. Prince Jarvan stood a safe distance to the side where he cast an eerie shadow over the tents behind him. His escort set up camp not far from the Institute, each man nestled inside their tent to sleep sound after all their efforts in this trial. He decided it was best for them to travel a short distance before establishing a secure perimeter and raising their tents.

In a wide arc, there sat his Lightbringers staring into the fire in silent contemplation. Garen sat next to Caitlyn, exchanging thoughts on the matters at hand and undoubtedly his friend would be explaining the significance of the runic markings to the Sheriff. They had taken to one another since their encounter in the forest near the Institute, talking about the events of the day and trading theories. Xin and Shyvana sat separately with pensive looks of their own. He could tell that they were engrossed with their own opinions on everything. Shyvana caught his eye and rose from her spot, approaching with a look he could only describe as heartfelt.

"Do you believe it to be true?"

"I'm not sure what to believe, Shy...," he began, "but it's all starting to make sense." He looked back and forth from her to the fire. It was a fickle matter to try and address her when in front of the others. He always feared what they may think of fairness if they knew, despite being such close friends. "It has to be true, right? If Kayle even took me to speak with him?"

"Logic would say that it must be."

"What does _your_ logic say opposed to your gut?"

"My logic says it's true and my intuition says be cautious."

There was that word again. Cautious. That's all he ever was, to ensure the safety of his people and colleagues; especially _her_.

"I won't remain some passive victim. I'm a Demacian, a Lightshield, and an idle stance will only cost lives. If the Council of Equity is tainted then they must be stopped." He could tell Shyvana was disappointed by his hardened tone. Instead of being affectionate, he gave her battle ready prose. He wasn't sure if affectionate was still in his skill set after everything he had endured. "I'm sorry, Shy..."

"No need to apologize," she said. "I understand your position and I am behind you every step. Just remember I am also here _for_ you." She placed a hand over his which was resting on the grip of his lance.

"I know." He glanced at the others and back at her. "It's time we all discuss a strategy..."

She nodded and let his gaze linger for a moment longer. They were always able to speak without actually using words, but his time for soft tones was over. He needed to be the Prince again. Before he could take a step forward to address the others, the sound of wings broke the silence. A raven landed on his lance.

'Message...message message...,' it squawked.

Jarvan reached up to take the note off of the bird and unrolled the small piece of parchment. The words scrawled on the message may as well have been fist in his stomach. _Noxus going to Icathia with weapon. Unsure of purpose outside of preparing for attack. Be cautious._ That word was like an itch he couldn't scratch at this point. The signature at the bottom of the paper was Shauna's mark. The Night Hunter was hard at work, even after the encounter with Twitch. She was definitely an invaluable addition to Demacia's ranks which he thanked the Maker for every day.

Garen had addressed the convoy leaving Zaun as Caitlyn and Shauna both observed. The news that they were on the move was no surprise but confirmation that it was in preparation for an attack unsettled him. When pairing the news of the marked wagon that they were towing with their destination and plans for an offensive, Jarvan saw the recipe for slaughter. It had been many years since he had spoken to Lucian and he hoped news hadn't reached him about what Noxus was up to. Then again, the help of the Purifier may be invaluable, which he would no doubt assist under the circumstances.

"Everyone listen up." Every pair of eyes moved from the fire to the Prince. "We all know we have to address the issue of two accusations that confirm the Institute has been corrupted. Heywan has laid some pretty groundwork for us to have some solidarity on the issue."

"How can we trust what he says?" Xin interjected.

"Yes, my Lord, how do we know he isn't simply misleading us?" Garen suggested.

"Gentleman, Noxus is also moving to Icathia with a weapon of some sort, in order to launch an offensive." This changed the pace of their arguments.

"Did the Council provoke this? Like they did us with the sabotage?" Xin asked.

"I don't know," Jarvan began, "but I wouldn't put it past them, assuming this is all a conspiracy for power." Garen gave a thoughtful glance when Caitlyn joined the conversation.

"I still don't understand why the Council would be plotting for power...aren't they already the strongest entities in Vlaoran..or even Runeterra?"

"Assumably, but they thrive on the foothold they have in Valoran. Without conflict, they are obsolete," Jarvan stated. This drove the point home. No one could argue the logic. Heywan had given it to him pretty plain and he to them.

An uncomfortable shift in mood seemed to envelope them all. It was clear that an open conflict was upon them. The last time there was such an issue, the Institute intervened and placed Kalamanda in stasis, only to seize control of the nexuses there. Perhaps this was their intention all along.

"Xin, please instruct the scribe in our escort to send a message to Demacia. Inform my father of the possible threat but nothing of the Institute. I want all of my champions and a full regiment to follow our lead to the mountain passage into Icathia. If the Noxian element has taken the coastal route we won't encounter them until we reach the ruins." Jarvan's order was clear. Garen approached so he could speak quietly.

"My lord, are we equipped enough to enter a place like Icathia?"

"We're going to have to be, old friend. We either stop them from using this weapon and attacking us or face a war in our own home." No one suggested that the Institute would intervene, not knowing what they do now. Xin quietly walked toward the tents in search of their aviary master. The rest stood looking at Jarvan.

Here he was at a crossroad. The Institute of War suffered from corruption. Noxus was mounting an attack. Lucian's involvement was inevitable. His mind returned to those runes, giving one last thought before retiring.

"Maker help us all."


	13. Chapter 13 - Lucian

**Author's** **Note:** _The delay between chapters was longer than usual but I haven't forgotten about my readers. I hope you all enjoy this journey while you follow our new Champion. I think it gives a little more feel for 'The Purifier'. Granted, I can only share my perspective mixed with the canon. I threw in a tidbit for my fellow traveling men out there. Other than that it's just the usual. Leave any comments or concerns. Enjoy!_

**XIII. Lucian**

A hunter lived a curious life in a world full of death. The innate feeling that only evil existed was inescapable. Darkness seemed to shroud everything around, closing in until that inevitable moment that he must succumb...but not before taking as many with him as possible. Lucian struggled with these thoughts as he journeyed closer to what he considered one of the two worst places in Valoran. This was quite an opinion to behold since Zaun and Noxus weren't even the top two worst. No. This place had a mystery to it quite like the Shadow Isles. At least with the islands of death one knew what to expect. Icathia offered a far worse fate for any that gambled too much with their life, or their sanity for that matter. He shuddered at the thought of the monster chained beneath the Institute of War. Fear was the object of an inability to suppress the mere prospect of misfortune. In this case, Lucian was not overwhelmed by prospects. He -knew- what came from the void. Now he pressed on over beds of stone and rock formations toward the ruins. This all because his path was changed with an unexpected visit.

"You are venturing to the wrong place, young man."

The voice startled him, so much that he drew his pistol and turned with the instinct to shoot. If he were more sporadic instead of calculated then he might have fired. The old man from Urtistan stood before him, adorned with thick robes and his clockwork techmaturgy. The Purifier lowered his weapon with a sigh of relief.

"To what do I owe the gift of your time, Zilean?" he prompted, holstering his weapon.

"If you continue that way, you will never reach her in time." Lucian looked at him, puzzled by the response.

"Her? What are you-"

"Time is limited. Always limited. Listen." Ironically, the old man paused. "Go to Icathia to find what you seek. There will be the case but nothing within."

It was a moment later when Lucian realized what he was seeing. It wasn't the Chronokeeper himself. He imagined the best way to grasp what he was looking at was to describe it as an echo. Wonder plastered the hunter's face as he stared on, letting the message sink in while the echo began to flicker. It was translucent now and faded into nothing.

"Thanks for the confusion, old man," he muttered. _Why would he displace time to bring me a message? How did he do it for that matter?_ Lucian pondered for a time as to how Zilean could even reach him like this. He didn't know much about the Urtistani, but he knew the capabilities of that particular time displacement only allowed the old man to travel back and forth through his own timeline from the present to any period in his past. His conclusion was theoretical at best and decided to head for Icathia._ I'm trusting an old man with a clock on his back who wasn't actually here…._ Sometimes he wondered if surrounding himself with death hadn't driven him crazy as well.

The most difficult part of his journey had been skirting around Noxus without encountering any scouts. For some reason the city was on high alert and more sentries were roving around the far reaches of the city-state's jurisdiction. He couldn't imagine why most people would even go to the hellhole surrounded by scorched earth. This made the idea of so much manpower around its walls ludicrous.

Lucian's next hurdle was scaling the steep mountain range between him and the ruins of Icathia. It may have been a shorter route, even faster, but it sure as hell wasn't easier. Each time he came to a rock face he climbed very carefully. Several times he nearly slipped and fell back to the base. This would have left him a crumpled mess. Other instances left him without a clear path to climb and in fewer cases he was able to simply walk through natural paths.

Using the sun and stars alone to navigate the way to the lost city would have been difficult for most but for this traveling man headed to the rubble of temples unknown, it was as simple as stepping into the sun in search of further light. There was a time when no one even realized there used to be a city south of the Great Barrier. Now there were tales that drifted from one end of the continent to the other and bouncing to every island surrounding it. Would-be explorers tried to make a name for themselves in search of the city but most never returned. Despite throwing caution to the wind, Lucian could not escape the feeling that he may not return from this one.

_I have to know who -she- is,_ he thought.

When Zilean teased him with a phrase like that, there was no other option but to pursue it. Perhaps it was the old man's intention to send him to his death. He had incredulous theories on the passage of time and the events therein.

_If it is my time, then so be it_, he thought.

The morning sun was reaching over the top the mountain as he finally came to the pinnacle. Granted, the top where he stood was relatively low compared to the other peaks, but it was the top. He looked down at his destination in all it's underwhelming glory.

Broken buildings were scattered in what used to be a wonderful pattern, glorious streets in a city of innovation. Even from the scarce pieces still standing it was evident that Icathia had vastly differing architecture. Obelisks were only feet tall and oddly, the tops were what showed. Everything in sight must have been the rooftops or highest tips of every building or structure. This made more sense given the distance between them all. Lucian gathered that there must have been many other smaller buildings below, maybe covered in sand or...possibly…

_Could Icathia be down there still?_ he pondered.

For a moment, he began to make the descent. The ground on the southern side of the Barrier was far higher in altitude than the northern floor. He was stopped at the sight of something to the east. Sails.

_RED sails_, he indicated.

Noxians were already along the shore. It looked to be three galleys with the blood red veils. Crimson masked brides to the unforgiving people. Drop boats were already on land, more following behind them. They looked to be ants from where he stood. Ants prepping a large wagon for transport. He speculated several things immediately but was hopeful that it was his intended target the whole time. It would make sense that the Noxians have it now. He thought he could make out the executioner with the techmaturgical spider legs, also what he thought was the Hand of Noxus trailing his signature cape.

The sound of marching caught his attention, but it wasn't coming from the small army on the coast. His ears told him to look westward where he looked down at the more convenient mountain pass. Banners?

_Maker be damned...it's a Demacian van!_

Demacia had been his home once upon a time. Instincts threw him down the side of the mountain. Lucian swung and dropped from every edge and incline to get to the base of the range. He did not care to spill Noxian blood but if he was right then they were carrying a weapon and it could be active. It would be a massacre for both sides. Something had to be going on. Half way down the grade, he saw the banner for Jarvan's Lightbringers.

_Oh yes, there is definitely going to be bloodshed here. Icathia will drink its fill…._


	14. Chapter 14 - Battle of Ruins

**Author's Note: **_I hope everyone can bear with me again today. Every chapter I post is a raw draft, absent of revision. I know this is a poor method for any writer but other responsibilities take my time so I never get the chance to really revise and get to a good third draft. This sets the pace though and gives everyone a good taste of what happened in Icathia. Let me know of any likes, dislikes, questions or concerns. Enjoy!_

**XIV. Battle of the Ruins**

The morning sun peeked over the horizon. All of Valoran rested behind its ethereal gaze. Demacia seemed to glimmer in the light of dawn. The Freljord was a gem, taking in the rays and turning them into a crystalline light show. Even Zaun and Noxus held a sort of quality left for oil paintings when the sun kissed them in the morning. Today there was a blemish. As far as most anyone else knew, the continent was the same as always. Men and women woke for the day's responsibilities, carrying out the mundane tasks as necessary or as some would have it, important tasks. The blemish that no one really knew about was right behind the Great Barrier, just a little way from the coast, in a lost city named Icathia.

"Garen! Route their left flank!" Jarvan screamed.

Fighting had begun without any real spark and continued for some time now. As soon as Noxian met Demacian, steel met steel, and blood met sand. To say that the conflict between the city-states was animalistic would be an understatement. The sound of metal on metal, and through flesh, was the recurring ensemble.

"I'm on it!" Garen shouted.

The Noxians had brought their wagon in from the east and taken it into some sort of underground entrance. Urgot had taken control of the weapon's movement while Darius took to the field. The Hand of Noxus raised his axe when he parted from his executioner, his regiment in tow, and screamed to high hell while pointing to Jarvan.

"If you want blood then I'll give you your own!"

The battlecry was eerie. Even Darius's men seemed to cower when he erupted with the threat. The scene was still playing in Jarvan's mind while cutting through the enemy soldiers. Xin was off to his left, parrying overhead swipes and tearing through men with his spear. Shyvana was ripping through the peons with ease to his right. Even Caitlyn had taken up arms for them to get to whatever it was that the Noxians were trying to get into the ruined city. Lucian was the only one missing.

On the other side was Darius, cleaving through collarbones with deft precision. Some of the poor soldiers beneath Jarvan's command had lost their heads. Nothing pleased the Noxian General more, except the prospect of taking the Prince's head as well. He was slowly making his way to the golden clad Exemplar. Blood was splattered in small droplets across his face. This only exemplified his presence while he continued to butcher the smaller men standing in his way. His stern look from beneath his brow was locked on Jarvan.

Katarina had traversed the field in order to stop Garen. She heard Jarvan's call to route their flank and she was there. They stood for a moment as they came to confront one another. It felt like an eternity to both of them, eyes frozen in a stare that substituted all talk. They were both questioning how this would end, knowing there was no way around it. Remorse was the only thing there for a moment and then it was just infatuated rivalry. Each took a step toward the other. The only way to describe what followed would be a morbid dance of steel. Garen moved with surprising grace for such a stout man and Katarina's lithe frame seemed to float. Their movements were so calculated that the fight seemed rehearsed. With every strike she attempted to land, he would counter. The same was true for every one of his attacks. Men (and the handful of female warriors from Noxus) from either side of the fight carried on their combat with absent minded movement. The lesser fighters were all but pretending to fight so they could watch what was going on.

The two warriors were in the middle of an exchange when a swordsman from Demacia stepped in with the intention of driving his blade through Katarina's back. Garen's eyes widened and he spun around her with his sword in a long arc. His actions weren't thought out, only impulsive. It may cost him his life, but he didn't care. The head of Lightbringer swung his blade deep into the torso of a Demacian soldier. From his periphery he thought a small blade was about to be thrust into his temple. Katarina was releasing a long draw, but her blades did not fall into the opening he had left. Instead they flew ten feet away into an archer. A Noxian archer, aiming at Garen's back.

The recoiled and stood apart after what happened. To the onlooking fighters it may have seemed that the two victims just got too close to the storm. Garen and Katarina both knew better. They had effectively betrayed two of their own warriors to the save the other's life. If it wasn't apparent before what lay between them, it was now crystal. The moment was short lived when the ground quaked. It was a short tremor but left plenty room for worry.

"It's too late. She has risen." Katarina said

"What? Who has-" Garen began but he was broken off by another tremor.

The battle stopped as the quakes began. Even Darius stopped in his push to get to his nemesis. Jarvan stood with his lance planted in the hard sand for support in the shaking. The Noxian General looked across the other men. He stood a head taller than most of them, as did Jarvan. He was only about thirty feet away now.

"You're too late, Princess. The show has already begun."

Jarvan needed no more explanation to know that whatever was on that wagon was in the depths of Icathia now. Whatever Urgot was doing, he had finished. The desert began to shake again, but this time holes were opening. Groups of men started to disappear from the blood stained battlefield. Their screams were muffled as they fell into their abyssal crypts. Darius looked surprised at the turn of events as well. Shouts of "Move out!" and "Get off the field!" were echoed from both leaders. Every soldier and officer scattered to the rock bases surrounding the hardened sand. Garen grabbed Katarina as she stood staring in shock at what was going on. She couldn't believe her eyes but Garen had only one concern and it wasn't the expanding hole on the surface. Yet.

Everyone that could make it out stood in awe of the total absence of desert floor now. What were once only five and six foot tall structures protruding from the sand were now observed in full. Towers climbed from the bottom of the hole they looked into. Obelisks speared the opening in all their splendor. The City of Icathia had been uncovered. It was a frightening thing to see as much as it was astonishing. What made it more frightening was the sky as it submitted to a darkness. What was an early morning was now a void of black sky.

Lucian was perched on a broken structure at the outskirts. He had been searching for a way to follow the wagon into the depths but was unsuccessful. Now he stared on in horror at what was unfolding. From the center rose a figure dressed in white. The attire wasn't very different from what the hunter wore himself. She looked pale and donned modifications from Zaun. Steel plating replaced pieces of flesh. Stitches held patches together. The sight reminded anyone informed enough to make the connection of Urgot. The amber eyes were recognizable from even a distance. He lowered his head. It was Senna. It was his wife.

Although the hunter no longer wanted to look, everyone else did. She rose until she floated about fifty feet above the surface they all stood on. The white garb had a purple trim to it, characteristic to what everyone feared most about coming to the lost city. Jarvan was making more sense of it all now, but still didn't understand everything. He looked at Darius who now stood only ten feet away in the mix of soldiers. The look on Darius face was one of consternation. He seemed almost angry but just as confused. A voice called out, absent of any tangible existence.

"The High Council thanks you all." A deep laugh accompanied this. "Thanks to your contributions, Senna is now free. Valoran will bow before us."

The voice was so familiar but hard to place. The confusion played on everyone's faces as they looked to one another for answers. Before anyone had time to discuss it, there was a flash and the darkness subsided. Senna was gone. The massive hole was sand once again. Murmurs rushed through the crowd. Was it a dream? Were we just seeing things? What the hell is going on? These were among the popular phrases. Anger and warfare were replaced with perplexity and confusion. No one was fighting anymore. It all seemed obvious to Darius now. He had been used; played like a piece on a chessboard by the High Council of Equity. The League was taking control.

Jarvan exchanged glances with the Noxian General again. The inherent hatred would always be there but this time….this time their need for answers took the lead.


	15. Chapter 15 - Graves

**Author's Note:** _Hey everyone! I hope no one is too frustrated with me. Without going too much into detail there are still things I'm dealing with that have hindered my writing. They're military related issues and I hope everyone can bear with me but I want to continue to assure anyone who looks forward to each chapter that I haven't given up! Leave your comments, good or bad and I'll try to implement constructive criticism. Enjoy!_

**XV. Graves**

Malcolm looked out across the water toward Bilgewater. It was far enough away that it couldn't be seen but he longed to go back. Some rum and good night's rest seemed a reasonable request but he didn't see it happening anytime soon. The slip of paper in his hand waved with the gentle push of the sea breeze. Sarah stood adjacent, facing the opposite direction with an equally pensive look. Any passers by could tell that they were about to make a decision that they didn't really want to make.

"So are we going?" Sarah said.

"I don' guess we have much of a choice."

"We could ignore it. Outlaws and pirates never came to aid in the conflicts of this place before."

She was right. Pirates of Bilgewater and outlaws like himself never cared a bit about the political fiascos or blood feuds that seemed to lord over everything in Valoran. This time just seemed different.

"Maybe not...but this just don't seem like any other time…"

He raised the piece of paper and touched it to the tip of his cigar. He watched as the paper took to flame, slowly breaking down into ash, submitting to the fire. It was a pivotal moment for him. Was this to happen to the only world he knew? Or was it just simply another ambitious conflict of human nature? The message relayed to him only explained that the Institute of War had unleashed some sort of weapon from the void, born of blood and death between Demacians and Noxians. On top of that, the Duchess of Ionia was missing.

"What in the shit is goin' on, Sarah?"

He dropped the remainder of the note to the ground. Sarah looked at him with a heartfelt sorrow. They had been through a lot of things but Malcolm never showed his cards quite like this. His face was absent of any positive emotion, left with a mix between sadness and anger. It's funny how stressful or hurtful situations seemed to turn one into the other.

"Nothing that can't be fixed, I'm sure." She turned and raised a hand to his cheek so she could turn his face toward hers. "Malcolm, you've endured every terror imaginable. Why are you so plagued by this?"

He thought back to his time in captivity in Zaun. There wasn't much he could think of as worse than the time he spent under the morbid care of his captors. The stench of that city and the feel of dull blades breaking his skin were all he could manage to think of at that instant. However, this emerging issues still felt as bad. This weapon that the Institute has taken from Icathia was a problem he couldn't ignore. The core of his intuition spoke to him. Sarah seemed to see all of this in his eyes. She only nodded after the moments she took to look at him.

"Okay. It's okay." She raised a bit to touch her lips to his. It wasn't often that they showed any affection in public and not many more instances behind closed doors. Their relationship was a bit more unconventional but still strong. "You don't have to explain. I'm with you regardless."

"We have to go, Sarah."

He was of course referring to the last part of the message they received. A rally was being called in the name of Valoran. The unthinkable had happened when it was made apparent that Demacia and Noxus were working together on an issue. Their message was one of many, calling for all leaders and liaisons to meet in the ruined city of Urtistan. This rally was meant to address the events that transpired in the ruins of Icathia. It was obvious that the challenges ahead were something of note when these two city-states make the call in unison.

"Then we go. Did our friendly Pirate King send any other word when he forwarded this message to us?" she asked.

"No. I imagine in the time it took for them to receive the message and for us to get it afterward, they're already sailing."

It was clear that he had no intention of going back to Bilgewater to retrieve anyone. They would be making the journey to Urtistan from Bandle City's port.

"We'll skirt along the coast just far enough out to not be in any danger of provoking any unwanted attention. Urtistan isn't a very long sail from here. I think we'll get there close to the same time as anyone coming from Bilgewater if your estimate is right." Sarah said.

He nodded and looked back out across the water. Valoran was always in an uproar but he typically paid it no mind unless he was participating in the League. Even then his efforts were more for monetary gain. An outlaw can make good money fighting for a wealthy bidder. Some days he questioned his moral compass. This wasn't one of them. Hustling and making a coin or two was one thing. Endangering a full continent in Runeterra was something else entirely and he couldn't stand idle.

"Sounds like a plan, Sarah. We should get goin'."

That was queue enough as they took toward their ship. The port wasn't very busy which made Malcolm wonder if anyone in Bandle City had been notified. Perhaps they had and no one was coming to this rally. While Sarah trotted up the gangway he turned to look toward the city. A loud noise was erupting from that direction and as if to answer his own thought process, gyrocopters were lifting into the sky. There must have been fifty of them before it was said and done. He remembered seeing one like that when he met the Yordle named Corki. Those vessels were treacherous little things, capable of some monstrous battle. Perhaps there was hope after all. Dennison Jadefellow was definitely a bureaucrat but if he was leaving to aid in this effort then he had more gall than Graves would have expected.

His attention was called back to the ship when he heard Sarah barking orders to the cabin boys and crew members alike. The sails were already prepared and they were ready to cast off. It helped that they had made some preparations before they received the raven bearing their message. They would need that saved time to reach Urtistan with haste. The Yordles would likely arrive before anyone else now. He boarded the ship and watched as the last tasks were done. Luckily they weren't sailing with one of the larger vessels and it took less effort to remove themselves from port. It was only a short time later that they were moving a good distance out along the coast.

He had retreated below deck to look through many of the books and scrolls that Sarah had stowed in her cabin. Information on weather, star patterns, national histories, technology, were all stored in the ships she had for reference purposes. She used these things to give her the advantage, whatever the job might ask of her. It was almost humorous in that a pirate from Bilgewater housed the majority of Valoran history and intelligence in her ships. Some of these things were the genuine article given the fact that she had raided numerous cities before, some abandoned with long forgotten literature.

Malcolm took a book from a shelf and sat beneath a lantern. He opened to the cover page and read the title to himself. He just sat in contemplation for a moment as if to prepare himself for what he was about to read. Graves was never "the learnin' type" but he retained everything that was important. He felt that this would be critical as he stared at the words.

**_Icathia: Inside the Outside by Kassadin_**


End file.
